


The War Remains

by ARTificial_Absinthe



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Multi, No RID2015, Other, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28607562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARTificial_Absinthe/pseuds/ARTificial_Absinthe
Summary: Megatron spends his days in a void self exile, alone with his bitter thoughts and occasional longings, when Starscream irrupts in scene to stay, bringing alarming conjectures about Soundwave. Megatron cannot stay static anymore.
Relationships: Megatron & Soundwave, Megatron & Starscream, Megatron/Soundwave (Transformers), Megatron/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42
Collections: Secret Solenoid '20-'21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YarAnrethe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YarAnrethe/gifts).



> This is my secret solenoid gift for YarAnrethe (RayEtherna in twitter), mixing the prompts about Starscream seeking to release Soundwave from the Shadow zone, and the one allowing free reign with Megatron/Soundwave/Starscream.  
> I hope you like it. 
> 
> Some more panels (besides the displayed here, they are 4 1/2 pages in total) I painted regarding this fic including omitted text here:  
> [ https://artificial-absinthe.tumblr.com/post/639673463049699328/the-war-remains-chapter-1-artificialabsinthe]()

Dusk faded away again under the breaths of a new nightfall above such desolated planet. As static and lacking in purpose as the previous one.   
Impelled by the outbreak of retrospective sights and afterthoughts, in bitter acknowledgement of the vanity of his great purposes, he had thrown himself into exile, embittered as never before, barely proud enough to convince himself of being capable of better. _"Whatever that be."_

And whatever that was were yet to be found. He bared his metallic fangs in a silent growl so proper of him, and for a moment, the illusion of musical notes sounded in his audial sensors.

It was in times such as this, when despair, back then traduced in anger and fueled by vehement disgruntlement and ache for revenge, when his frustration and hate turned so burning that threatened with his own consumption, that the only one of his officers who revered him with his Spark would place himself to his right, just where he belonged, and would establish a private connection among them. Not in order to transmit schemes or tactical information, neither surveillance reports, but structured sequences of sound. Music. 

The shadow of a smile pictured his faceplates to the memory.   
Soundwave, silent, frigid* Soundwave, had a hidden receptive circuit for music. 

And, plugged to the processor of his Third in Command through a slim auxiliary line, Megatron, indulgent for the occasion to his own solace, developed an intense inclination for it too, a denied dependence.

_"Soundwave never failed me."_

Suddenly, the joint of his left knee began to give way under the oil where he stood, partially immersed in -into a pond dug and left there by a group of Cybertronian refugees, whom had made their way back to Cybertron long ago- and it was necessary to lean against a rock to prevent himself from falling. 

The illusion vanished as soon as it has surged, leaving him again into his now cinder, insondable void. That better "whatever" for what he was capable of never came... and neither did Soundwave...

The unexpected blast of thrusters getting closer followed by a transformation sequence running at his back tore him out from his sullen pondering. And behind him, cautious and ready to scape, though, in contrast, graceful and conceited, he found himself with the familiar, slender shape of Starscream. 

"Ah, how the mighty have fallen!", softly exclaimed the uninvited guest. 

"What do you want, Starscream?", Megatron answered, in a weary voice. 

"So, it is here where the once undefeatable Lord of the Decepticons conceals his shame," mocked Starscream, displaying an unusual courage. 

Megatron emerged from the pond, fluent and steady, ignoring the pain and the warnings about his leg, and approached in menacing silence. A powerful, sharp clawed servo reached out, and the before confident Seeker cringed, bracing himself for the imminent attack.

To his immense astonishment, the claw barely scratched his faceplate, just beside the new scars descending from his optic to his neck cables.  
He onlined his optics to look at Megatron, startled, and that one answered him with an inquisitive glance. 

"Which new enemy have you lined up after your exhaust, Starscream?", he asked, moving away his limb.

"Predacons," he replied simply. He had no intentions to narrate the attack, nor the pitiful subsequent scape. To confess the pretensions that had lead to such attack was not sensible either.

"You had also gone through... difficult times, I can see..." he suggested, scrutinizing the cracked frame, crossed by weld marks at different healing stages. "I barely recognized you. "

A painful sting of humiliation stabbed his Spark to the memory of his body formatted by the Chaos Bringer, utterly dispensing with his consent, categorically against his will. Such frame had been monumental and mighty, but it was not his.

"I've never taken calmly the decisions made over myself, and at my expenses. You very well know it, Starscream," replied Megatron, and took some steps apart to lean against the wall of rock erected along the pond where he stood before. Starscream was not a threat. He never had been.

Starscream slowly nodded. So Megatron knew where to find Shockwave. Interesting.

"I admit that I'm surprised. The fact that against all the odds, you managed to keep your Spark long enough to make all the way here from Cybertron just to irritate me, the only talent you have ever exhibit."

Starscream regained his carriage and risked a soft and affected chuckle.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, _Lord_ Megatron" -the word was uttered whit a hint of scorn-," but I'm not here because of you."

Megatron glanced back at him among the spikes of his imposing shoulders, arching an optic ridge.

"I'm searching for someone", he clarified.

"And who would that be?"

Starscream doubted for a second. Was there any reason to keep on hiding anything from Megatron?

"I... no one has known anything about him since your fall. I had supposed that he would be there, willing to take his fanaticism as far as to get his own Spark impaled, if that would keep yours from meeting such fate." There was a piercing edge on the words of the former Air Commander that was hard to ignore. "Maybe he was not that stupid. But I was certain, at least, that he would be the only one with some interest in turning back to you. Once Unicron was expelled from your frame, of course."

Megatron had turned back to look at him to the first suggestion, hiding his growing alarm under a suspicious interest.

"... That, if the Autobots didn't deactivate him before", Starscream reluctantly concluded.

"Soundwave, deactivated?" hissed Megatron, incredulous.

"I'm afraid."

"Impossible!"

"I understand, then, that he is not here. Therefore, I simply..."

"No, you are not leaving yet!" Megatron interrupted in an imperative voice. The Seeker's answer was immediate, stopping cold.

"And which affairs could you possibly have with my most loyal and efficient asset? It's rather evident that you detest him almost as much as you hate me. Why the sudden interest in his whereabouts?"

Starscream tried to concoct a credible answer, failing to find it.

"Well... said qualities..."

"To what end?" Now he stood to only centimeters away from Starscream, cornering him against the rock promontory behind him, leaving him no scaping route. "Did you believe by chance that he would follow _you_ in a desperate and vain attempt to arrange a new brand of Decepticons, under your command and precariously raised up with the remnants of _my_ empire? Before my optics and dispensing with me, in order to follow you in a hasty frenzy of destruction, driven by your blind search for power?" he exclaimed, half-way between irritation and anger.

"It wouldn't be the first time he devotes himself to a similar undertaking..."

A furious growl arose from the ex-warlord vocalizer, and his fists clenched to his flanks, preparing himself to unleash his rage on him.

_"He is right."_

Such realization stopped him nevertheless, and the vicious passion of his visage gradually vaporized before Starscream's terrified optics.

Himself didn't know if Soundwave's loyalty to him had outlived his defeat, if perhaps he begrudged or despised him. Furthermore, the doubt was more urging by the time being.   
Megatron resolutely strode away.

"Come on, _Commander_. Try to make yourself useful. We'll find our comrade's fate out."

Moved by the familiar security of his former leader motions, Starscream followed him, experiencing a strange relief to the known, though generally unjustified sensation of direction.

"What's the plan, my Lord?" (Old habits die hard)

"The Autobots were the last ones to take account on any of us. We shall begin there."

"The Autobots? Are you crazy?" Starscream exclaimed, forgetting all formalities, stopping in place and gesturing, irate. "They could imprisone us, execute us! No, I'm not willing to figure to execution after all I have gone through!"

"Oh, come along Starscream, stop shrieking. Had the Autobots wanted retribution, they'd tried to stop us since that damned Unicron was torn out from my body... Anyway, we'll proceed discreetly."

Starscream protested under his breath. Nevertheless, what choice did he have? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use the word "frigid" in these acceptations:  
> 1\. very cold in temperature.  
> 2\. Without warmth of feeling;  
> without ardor or enthusiasm.  
> 3\. Unemotional;  
> lacking passion, sympathy, or sensitivity.  
> 4\. Formal or stiff in behaviour or temperament; lacking in affection or warmth.


	2. Chapter 2

The journey to Cybertron turned out to be longer than expected. Given the modifications made to his alt-form (kept because of efficacy and functionality reasons, and imposible to remove anyway), Megatron would have been able to cross the space himself to supersonic speed. Even so, he couldn't leave Starscream behind, neither to allow him to sneak away. So he got aboard the little and slightly damaged unit that the cunning Seeker had surreptitiously took out from Cybertron: an old ship left behind into some of Shockwave's lairs during the last stages of the war.

They were fortunate enough to count with a sympathizer of the dissolved Decepticon cause (Though he had wisely remained neutral and gone) as well as admirer of Megatronus the gladiator, in charge of one of the newly restored Space Bridges. He wondered, however, how long would the falsification of the signature of both the starship and his passengers remain unknown.

He checked on the monitors once more. The shields still concealed the presence of the vessel, and the sensors wasn't detecting potential threats. For now.

Finally, Starscream's signature appeared in the proximity. Moments later he was crossing the doorstep, and his complains were not late.

"How is it that every time I have any affair in Cybertron I end up doing all the hard work?"

"I cannot be seen in Cybertron, Starscream. I thought that was clear enough," Megatron replied in a muffled growl, not turning over to him.

"If I'm not mistaken, _you_ relinquished the Decepticon leadership. That turns me, Starscream, legit Second in Command, into the new and unquestioned leader of the Decepticons. Why should I take care of your dirty work?"

Megatron rolled his optics in tedium. Back in time, the insolence would had buy Starscream a trip to the infirmary. Now, he recognized the vanity of the display. But that doesn't impede his always latent irritation to bristle.

"My words were very specific, Starscream" he blurted out, facing him, looming on him. "I didn't hand anything over to you. I didn't expect you to succeed me, didn't want you to!" His rasping voice reverberated on the walls, causing Starscream to shrink away.

Megatron watched him cowering, and he didn't experience nor satisfaction neither contempt. Not even the proud indifference of the constant confirmation of his own superiority. It didn't mean nothing.   
He let out an ex-vent, turned his back to Starscream with a somber demeanour, and headed to the controls of the ship to rest his servos on the desk.

"What did you find out?" he softly asked.

If the absence of physical violence had surprised Starscream before, now he was totally astonished. His scheming mind, however, began to evaluate possibilities in the back of his processor. His master... no, Megatron no longer seemed inclined to beat him into submission. Could he get some advantage from that?

"Ehrr... " he cleared his vocalizer. "I made a courtesy visit to the most opportunistic defector ever."

"But you are here, Starscream" Megatron replied in a snide voice.

"I'm speaking about Knockout!" he exclaimed, kicking the ground with his heel, as his interlocutor chuckled, surprising him once again.

"Go on, " the later incited him, in light of the silence that succeeded the interaction.

"He... wasn't home. Nevertheless, my undeniable shrewdness had served me well."

Starscream sauntered with haughtyness across the room until he was before the monitors, closer to Megatron than he had dared during the last years, and inputted a location in the map. His long talons pointed a tiny spot in the diagram.

"There. This is the place provided to our good doctor by the convenient switch. He shall return at some time before dawn. We may infiltrate during every given cycle and... wait."

He trailed at the last word. Megatron had never brandished a considerable patience supply. He gave a sideways look to him, wary. Already could tell who was going to end up serving as a sentinel. Megatron, regardless, confined himself to nod.

"We'll go there the next cycle. To return immediately could alert about our presence." And added: "Good work, Starscream... for a change."

Starscream grimaced. Dispise was not welcomed, though it didn't sting. Centuries of humiliation at the ruthless Lord of the Decepticons' servos had taught his pride to come out intact.

"Maybe not all of us find propitious for our performance the only incentive of a death promise..." he bitterly muttered, immediately regretting it.

Megatron's optics, obstinately fixed still on the monitors, half-shut until they were sloped, penetrating shafts of light.

"You have been an obnoxious, coward and treacherous glitch for so long that I forgot the attributes that first earned you the rank among the Decepticon High Command," he mumbled, striving to utter the words. "I think... that my influence in such an outcome cannot be denied... Although you always contributed to the aftermath with your constant ineptitude and treachery."

Starscream blinked and emitted a brief chuckle.

"Your version of an apology is awful."

"It wasn't an apology."

"What a shame. I allow myself the audacity of borrowing some supplies," Starscream suggested in a slightly ludic tone, elegantly gesturing at a pair of containers piled next to the door. "I imagine that you hadn't consumed decent energon for some time now."

Megatron regarded the containers and then Starscream. Before the inaction, Starscream walked to them and pulled a shiny cube from each one. One of them the familiar bright blue of the good mid-grade that had constitute his fuel during the time of the war, and the other one, pink high-grade.

"So, you show me deference after all. Do you still believe you can deceive me?"

Starscream seemed ostensibly offended.

"To deceive you, now? With what purpose?" he answered, while walking to him, with a recipient in each servo.

"You tell me, Starscream," said Megatron, unable to mitigate the satisfaction that the Seeker's behavior provided him.

He had became too used to servility. The attention pleased him, but no longer felt like deserving it. He chose the offered blue container and took it to his intake. To drink it instead of inoculate it was less efficient, but it had its benefits. A luxury he had rarely afforded during the prolonged hostility with Optimus Prime.   
It was irritating to admit, but while time drew on, Starscream's presence turned to be the more pleasant.

"I would have thought that you'd receive my demise with veiled joy," he commented, thoughtfully tapping his empty cube. "Instead, you called my name. When that scout pierced through my Spark with that wretched sword, you called for me. Even in my agony I had a glimpse of you falling to your knees. Was it despair that I perceived?" he inquired. 

Starscream looked away and hid behind his Energon cube as best he could.

"Was it?" he murmured, bluntly.

"Tell me, Starscream, why pretend in those circumstances?"

He didn’t know it himself. His position towards Megatron had always been an abstruse disaster. On the one hand, his alliance with him had arisen in function to his own interests, with the established purpose of using his ladder of power and getting rid of him beforehand. Moreover, Megatron had been a warrior worthy of admiration and fear, and even Starscream recognized the initial value of his cause. At least, it favored his contempt for those who had believed theirselves superior to him.

Over time, he had developed a sort of dependence, attracted by the relentless vortex of his power, with no direction to go away, since all the paths away from Megatron turned to oppose him, and all opposing paths faced certain annihilation. In any case, it had been better to follow him than that preachy, selfless Optimus Prime.

And what he could assure at least, was that the defeat of Megatron, aboard the Nemesis and at the servos of the Autobots, meant ruin for all of his followers.

"And who could pretend in such circumstances?" he defended himself, with no other answer at hand.

For the first time in eons, Megatron gave a hint of a half-smile, languid and crooked, but devoid of derision or perversity.

Starscream relived the raw anguish of seeing him defeated, and realized that he no longer desired his deactivation... for now. And perhaps it had not been a mistake to search for him, Starscream thought. His initial goal of reigniting the Decepticons might not be feasible, but that had not stopped him when he decided to leave his hideout in Cybertron to venture into space in search for the only survivors he had spent most of his life with.

As the high-grade vanished from the containers, he wondered if he would be able to adapt to this new, fateless path that Megatron traveled. Pathetic, dismal, totally lacking in ambition.   
The idea repulsed him. However, part of him was pulling to it. The vortex still wielded power over him. After all, the squall had extinguished the flames they fed for centuries, and when this in turn subsided, they were all that remained.


	3. Chapter 3

There was no other light in the dark hallway but three pairs of glowing red optics.

The metallic sound of footsteps echoed through the walls, cloaking the soft whispers of the pair of Cybertronians leading the march.

"Can you tread more softly?"

"I’m as stealthy as I can, Knockout!"

"Well, you’re not being stealthy enough. Ah, I don’t know how you convinced me to do this!" protested the red bot, looking nervously around him.

"Think you’re doing it for our old camaraderie. As they say, for old times' sake," Starscream returned, with a crooked smile.

"Sure, the old days... I wonder if they’re worth it..." Knockout replied. "At least Megatron isn’t yelling at us. The clank of your footsteps is already unnerving enough."

As they approached the hangar to which the corridor led, a faint light gradually reached them. And there, in the center of the enormous half-lighted room, lay the remains of the Nemesis, majestic in its decadence still.

Megatron advanced towards it with an insensitive air, contemplating the old, ominous herald of his implacable tenacity.

Starscream looked around, locating the alarm systems.

"Why haven’t they destroyed it?" Megatron inquired in a hoarse murmur.

"A prototype, or research, perhaps?" Knockout replied with a shrug.

"Or a trophy" Starscream bitterly mumbled.

Knockout turned to the mainframe, attached to one of the hangar’s side walls, his optics quickly scanning for the controls that would activate the ship once again.

The lights of the hangar briefly flickered as the flow of energy was being channelled into the ship’s power core. Purple streaks began to radiate their dim light along the huge structure as its systems went online, and the access bridge slowly descended, with sharp protests from its hinges, severely damaged by the last collision.

The two outlaws entered the ship that had transported them through space for centuries, various emotional responses getting activated in their emotional systems.

The door shut close behind him, and for a moment, Megatron experienced the echo of the feeling of infallibility that intoxicated him every time his crew received him reverently dropping on a knee, the gratifying certainty of being feared. He shook his head, drawing such thoughts away from his processor.

_"A futile farce."_

Starscream could hardly hide his animosity and indignation. How he longed to take control of the ship, to claim the glory for himself. He was trying to find the way, the right words to stoke the taste for domination in his apathetic leader, the insatiable thirst for retribution.

For his part, Knockout beheld the vessel with a murky, conflicted look, remembering what he used to be, how much he had actually enjoyed it, his losses and the constant threat. The certainty of being a prisoner of his own choice. He looked over his shoulder, towards the access corridor. He was barely accepted by some of the Autobots. The last thing he needed was to get compromised.

Megatron and Starscream crossed the catwalks to reach the Bridge, Soundwave’s last whereabouts. The imposing silver mech positioned himself in front of the terminals, searching for the last coordinates entered there. To think of his oldest and most reliable follower, the only being who professed devotion to him ambushed, removed from the scene with dirty tricks, trapped and left there to rust made his inner lines burn with fury.

"Are they still there?" Starscream inquired behind his back.

Megatron sternly nodded, entering the commands that would generate a Ground Bridge.

"We are here, Knockout," Starscream reported through his old frequency. "Activate it."

Two energy vortices emerged in the hall, one at prudent distance next to the other instead of facing each other, illuminating it with its green lights.   
They waited. No signal appeared on the screen. Starscream approached one of the Ground Bridges, venturing a couple of steps into the tunnel, not daring to cross it.

"Soundwave!" he called out, remaining unanswered.

The Ground Bridges could not stay open for long intervals of time. There was not enough energy. Megatron was about to go through the portal when one of them was suddenly deactivated, and he barely managed to jump out of it, dragging the surprised Seeker with him. Knockout immediately burst into the room, visibly distressed.

"Knockout! What the frag?" exclaimed Starscream, still bewildered, lying on the scarred chassis of his former leader.

"Hide!" urged Knockout, running to the controls to shut down the remaining Ground Bridge.

Too late. Suddenly, there were three known Cybertronians on the scene, their weapons drew, obviously warned and prepared to deal with potentially hostile intruders.

"Megatron!" exclaimed Bumblebee, frankly surprised, as the last slowly stand up.

"I knew none of them were to trust," Arcee said indistinctly, in an acrimonious voice. And then louder: "Whatever you’re up to, it won’t work. "

"Traitor!" Smokescreen accused, addressing Knockout, a note of resentment rising in his voice.

"No!" he defended himself.

"Knockout, how could you?" Bumblebee demanded, unable to hide the sadness and disappointment of his optics.

"Bee, I swear...!"

"What did you do with my Third in Command?" Megatron roared, impatiently interrupting.

The guns instinctively locked on him, and Starscream, in turn, fired a missile at them.

The missile exploded against the opposite wall when the Autobots jumped out of the way, immediately corresponding to the hostility with blast shots from their own weapons.

The fire detecting system rained water over the hall, as they engaged in battle, while Knockout remained on the sidelines, unwilling to choose sides and uncertain of what to do.

Megatron tried to subdue his anger, knowing that fighting did not help his purposes, and actually without the conscious inclination to do so. But his tendency towards violence was quick to manifest; blows and blasts did not favoured his tranquility.

The faulty joint betrayed him again, slowing him down, forcing him to drop on the damaged knee, and Bumblebee kicked him right in the center of his chassis, knocking him down by the ground.

"Optimus trusted you!" he exclaimed, with his weapon slightly diverted from the target. "He trusted you in spite of everything. He let you go and encouraged us to put the past behind us. Why can’t you?" 

"He made no mistake," Megatron mused, slowly standing on his knees, servos rised in surrender. "I’ve had enough of this. Starscream," called out, without turning to look at him, "enough." It was more a request than an order.

"But, Megatron, they attacked us for no reason!" he protested.

"That’s enough!" he growled, imperious this time.

Starscream obeyed, demurringly surrendering. He knew that Megatron would be furious at him for aggravating the situation, but he was not thrilled to let the Autobots go with the victory.

"We have not come to start the conflict again, despite the unfortunate outcome of our raid," Megatron explained in a low voice, straining to extinguish his anger, swallowing the acrid aftertaste of his wounded pride. "We’re not even trying to retrieve the vessel that rightfully belongs to me. I just want... I just _ask_ for the release of my... _Ex_ -communications Chief. That’s all."

Bumblebee looked at him with wide optics, halfway between suspicion and surprise.

"The three main elements of the Decepticons, together? Doesn’t sound like a great idea to me," Arcee intervened.

"Maybe not. But I remember Optimus never authorized that operation. It was the kids' idea," Smokescreen remarked, dimming his optics, with a grimness the Decepticons had never seen in him.

"I’m beginning to wonder if he would have approved of us leaving him there, with no access to any Energon source... it’s... almost torture."

Bumblebee dimmed his optics too. A shadow of guilt crossed the visages of the Autobots, even Arcee’s.

The Ex-Decepticons exchanged ironic glances. The Autobots had always been slow and averse to realize their own crimes.

"What could we expect from you if we allowed you to encounter each other?" The little black and yellow bot asked, lowering his weapon even further.

It was even more ironic to receive understanding from the same Autobot that had so coldly deactivated him in the first place.

"You will never need to worry about us again..." the addressed replied.

Starscream grimaced. He was not pleased at all that Megatron spoke for him, even less that he willingly condemned the three of them to exile. He acknowledged, grudgingly, that his venture was over before it began.

"Are we going to trust a Decepticon, really? Shouldn't they be trailed?" As expected, the two-wheeler was an onerous and unwavering obstacle.

Finally, Knockout dared to intervene:

"Bee, it’s true..." he said, hesitantly.

Bumblebee looked at him with a hint of mistrust. Despite this, his expression slightly softened.

"Please..." Megatron hissed, averting his optics, once again swallowing his pride, to the stark astonishment of each of the Cybertronians in the room.

"That’s all I desire."

Bumblebee looked at his comrades with almost begging optics. Finally, they seemed to come to terms.

"Scrap. Don’t make us regret this," Arcee sighed angrily.

"Don’t tell Ultra Magnus," Smokescreen warned his teammates lowly.   
Megatron stood up, and Starscream, leery, moved over him, ready to attack to the slightest provocation. Knockout sighed relieved, and Bumblebee headed for the controls.

"If you tried to cross Ground Bridges, that should have released him. Unless..." He didn’t dare finish the sentence.

"Let’s try to communicate with him. Let us send texts instead of audio, as on that occasion with Miko’s phone," Arcee suggested, eager to put an end to the awkward situation as soon as possible.

Bumblebee nodded, moving aside to allow the former Decepticons to deal with the task. Smokescreen still had a gun locked on them.

Once the message was sent, a tense wait extended for a few moments. The Autobots began to fear Megatron’s likely mad violent reaction if Soundwave's Spark was extinguished. Starscream, nervous and irritated, would cast baleful looks at anything that moved, anticipating the attack.

_"Don’t you dare to be dead."_

Finally, a distorted, almost incomprehensible message appeared on the screen. Its origin: the Earth.   
Having read it, Megatron whispered, a dour, indecipherable expression set on his faceplates:

"He followed me. "

"...Of course, " Starscream replied after a brief pause, a nervous giggle escaping from his vocalizer. " Of course he did! And now what are we supposed to do?"

The Autobots looked at each other, resigned.

Back to Earth.


	4. Chapter 4

To dive after the lifeless husk of his leader, back then on that fateful day, had been an impulsive, grave mistake. Had he took a little thought to the situation, had he staid aboard the Nemesis, he might have found his opportunity to scape long time ago. But he was supposed to be always after Megatron, to endorse him, to be a backup for him, to cover his back. He had needed to follow, to help his Lord, if there were still something that he could do. To assure himself his master was irremediably gone.

When he received the message, startled by the sudden flash of feed among the long cycles of emptiness, of occasionally wandering in hateful and endless circles in that small dimension of sea and rocks, the unusual agitation coupled with the decline in the performance of his functions due to the deprivation of Energon, caused a significant delay in the speed of his response, both to decipher it and to answer it.

Megatron actually lived within that new reanimated frame. Of course, his formidable master could not be defeated by a mere single scout.

Frantic static lines waved in his visor, evidencing the intense activity running in his processor, as once again after a long time, he tried to precise the features and frequency to open a Ground Bridge for himself. His master was alive, and he must be worthy, even after failing, to serve him again.

He had deduced long ago that a second Ground Bridge was necessary to get himself an exit, but perhaps he would be required to generate one of the both. He checked on his Energon levels. Not enough. To rely on the Nemesis' energy core was not an available resource. His possibilities of success were not promising as they were. It was a fortune he wouldn't ought to exert himself to such.

When the blaze of two Ground Bridges flared to life behind him, Soundwave left the rock to which he was holding to, straightening himself up, moving slowly and deliberately towards them, attempting to dominate his weak components, shaking uncontrollably.

Automatically, almost with no volition, he strode through the tunnel, thunderous for his audital receptors, dulled by the constant muted rumble of the waters around him.

Despite his efforts, his optical system suddenly went offline, his locomotive system lost its link to his limbs, and his frame inevitably collapsed just at the end of the tunnel.

The impact was not recorded on his information processing system, and he vaguely attributed it to the activation of the persistent emergency stasis that he had overridden over and over again, and that now refused to be aborted. At last he managed to reverse it once more, realizing then that his position remained vertical, although they were not his limbs that sustained him.

"Soundwave, status?" rumbled that harsh voice.

His optical system was tentatively rebooting, providing him with a distorted and deficient feed of his environment. He was again on the bridge of the Nemesis, deserted, and silent now that the Bridges had fade closed.

His helm and chassis rested against that of his leader, held firmly in his position by his arms, granting him the dignity of verticality despite resting on his knees.

Soundwave's screen scrolled a seemingly endless, fluctuating diagnosis of his condition, as requested, which Megatron was barely able to read, after which he bowed his head deeply, in a deprecative gesture. An audio clip played from his speakers: 

"《I _failed you_.》" 

"I don’t want to hear that self-pity nonsense," Megatron replied sharply. "You never did."

Starscream approached them, unable to gloat in the momentary weakness of the one who always thwarted his attempts to depose Megatron, recalcitrant to be relieved instead that Soundwave still was functioning. He leaned to his side, offering Soundwave a dose of Energon in an external injector device. Megatron nodded, indicating him to proceed.

"The war is over, Soundwave," he explained in a monotonous voice, as the Energon penetrated the lines of the dazed bot he was holding. 

"I refuse to strive still on this fatuous and endless path. We did enough. We shattered our initial enemies, and their despicable regime with them."  
Starscream concluded with his little show of good will, and even had the sense to quietly retire to a corner of the room.

"I know I wouldn’t have achieved half of my goals without your dedication, Soundwave," Megatron continued, in the same arid tone. "But my craving was inexhaustible. My goal was no longer determined, always insatiable... The day I first climbed to planet surface, I sought for a pathway to the sky, knowing I was doomed to the underground." He gave a bitter, crooked smile to that. "There was no fulfillment, never would be. And you devotedly followed me through my insanity. In any case, it is me the one who has failed you."

Soundwave lifted his visor at him, inquisitive. Under the fuliginous insensitivity that Megatron displayed, however, he could perceive a torturous disturbance, no longer visceral, but heavy and chronic, so slowly and gradually increasing that perhaps Megatron would not notice the disease until it was too late to repress a paroxysm, however that would be.

"Finally," he still was saying, "I was deprived of all that my might had proudly claimed. And outright reverted to what it is to be abused, this time introduced to an even more absolute and humiliating form of oppression." 

Soundwave’s optical reception finally restored itself, allowing the strange sight of a Megatron that seemed totally void. 

"My pride was so great that I could hardly bear it. And I am weary. If our efforts were enough, I no longer wish to prevail to assure it. Nor do I thirst for conquer anymore. Now I relieve myself from my own burden. And thus, I relieve you."

Soundwave struggled to process that information with his diminished functions, and the bewilderment at such a revelation did not help the fluidity of the procedure. 

"Decepticons no longer exist, there is no impossible to reach any more. You are allowed to withdraw your oath. I understand if you despise me. You’re free to go and do as you please, but I won’t be able to help you if you decide to get involved with the Autobots once again and get defeated," Megatron concluded, bluntly and plainly, tense at the sepulchral silence of the slender spy, gradually pulling away as Soundwave regained control of himself. 

The last one shook his head slightly, and his arms lifted swiftly behind him, blocking the retreat, his long digits laying almost imperceptibly on his interlocutor’s large pauldrons. 

"I swore my life to the Decepticon cause," stated Soundwave, in his own voice, monotone, distorted and with an almost automated reverberation. "Oath to Decepticons: Oath to Megatron himself. Still follow." 

His speakers audibly switched to play afterwards complex, comforting melodic sequences for him once again; and with no fortress left to defend, Megatron gave in to them.


End file.
